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A typical league checkpoint consisted of Red showing the guard his trainer ID, and, on the rare occasion he wasn’t recognized, his Kanto badges, and, if Mt. Silver was involved, his Johto ones.
This was not a typical league checkpoint. The guard clearly didn’t recognize him, Red knew as soon as he stepped into the divider room. “ID?” he requested.
Red obliged, nodding silently and getting it out.
The guard scanned it over. “How old are you, kid?”
[13,] Red signed in reply.
“I don’t speak sign language, can you tell me out loud?”
Red shook his head no.
“Well, you can clearly hear me, so why not?”
The Kanto Champion looked up at the blank ceiling, trying to figure out how to articulate “I’m autistic and talking takes all of my energy” in a series of gestures.
He couldn’t. So he blinked a few times, before taking a deep breath and using his voice. “I-I’m thirteen.” Three syllables, two words. But it felt like overcoming a mountain.
“Oh, so you can talk!”
Red shrugged, trying not to show the guard his quiet grimace.
“Badges, please.”
He got out both sets, just in case.
The guard narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Someone your age, with sixteen badges?”
Red nodded. It was a feat, to be sure, but he knew at least two other people who had achieved it. Blue. And that kid who challenged him on Mt. Silver he still didn’t know the name of.
“Where’d you get these? They’re convincing.”
What did he mean, convincing? Red cocked his head in confusion.
“They’re fake. A thirteen-year-old who can barely talk, getting sixteen badges? Not possible.”
Red was getting frustrated. This guard was talking louder. The lights’ subtle buzzing was starting to get to him. He heard every little rustle of clothing. The wind coming in from outside gave him chills every few seconds.
Too much. He grabbed his stuff, shoved it in his bag, and ran back the way he came. He didn’t care if he didn’t get through. He needed out. From the Indigo Plateau down to Viridian City straight into the Pokemon Centre. He took a deep breath and his heart slowed from fluttering down to something normal-ish. He opened his eyes. Facing him was… Blue? His brown eyes were filled with something akin to concern. “Red? You alright?”
Red shook his head.
“Weren’t you supposed to be training with the Elite Four today? Did something happen?”
He nodded as an answer to both questions.
“Okay. You wanna talk about it?”
Red pointed to the Plateau out the window. [Guard.]
“Bad guard, huh? What happened?”
[He thought my badges were fakes. Didn’t recognize me.]
“Why would he assume that?”
Red shrugged. [Age.] He neglected to include the part about Red’s nonverbalism.
Blue huffs. “That does it, then! I’m going up there and I am going to give that guard a piece of my mind!”
He came back 10 minutes later, looking extremely confused. “They let me through just fine.”
Red frowned. [I expected that.]
“Why?”
Red hesitated for a few seconds. [He didn’t like me because I didn’t speak.]
Blue paused. “He what?”
He grabbed Red’s hand. “Cmon, we’re going there together.”
Red twisted his hand out of Blue’s grip, but followed.
Blue stepped into the gate, eyes blazing with pure fury. “You ignorant, unprofessional, scum of the Earth potato brain!”
Blue was pretty loud. Red watched, covering his ears. Maybe personal character attack wasn’t the best way to go about this. But he deserved it, so Red didn’t interfere.
“I-I’m just doing my job, sir!”
“Oh yeah? Is ‘ableist lint-licker’ in checkpoint guard job descriptions these days?”
Red couldn’t help but laugh out loud at that one as the guard slunk back in his chair. “Go right ahead,” he said quietly to Red, as Blue looked him in the eye, yelling more insults. Red walked past, politely tipping his cap.
How was he going to explain being late for training this time?